


Fragments of Fractals

by oliverthelongfurby



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliverthelongfurby/pseuds/oliverthelongfurby
Summary: The thing that was once Michael Shelley, and then once was the distortion, thinks on the end of the world.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Cw for death, grief, suicidal thoughts. If you can tell what’s going on here you’re doing better than me. I wrote this because I couldn’t sleep <3

(Click)

Statement of the fragments of the things that made up the Michaels.

Statement begins. 

The world has ended.

Everything ends, doesn’t it?

Shelley used to say that. Then the distortion picked it up. The distortion tried so hard to hold onto Shelley, to… protect him.

Alas, they never thought the world would end. I think it’s fascinating. Shelley’s curiosity, mixed with distortion’s, I suppose. Distortion was never that curious, but it liked to watch when it suited it.

Shelley grieves. Shelley grieves everything he has lost.

We won’t lose more, I don’t think. But, I can hardly be sure.

Shelley greived Fiona. She’s still alive, I know that. But that’s hardly good. She’s received a fate worse than death. Fiona was like a mother to him.

She’s trapped in that… place now. The coffin. Distortion tried to free her, to no avail, of course. Right now, she breathes through her teeth, wishing she could die. She tried to hold onto memories of her friends at first, hoping someone might come for her. Emma never told anyone. So we didn’t.

(Choked sob)

(Laugh)

Apologies. I’m not used to dealing with… feelings.

Shelley loved far too much. He loved Gertrude, Emma, Sarah, Gerry, anyone who considered him worth the time of day.

Although, Gertrude actually didn’t. But he didn’t know that.

Distortion dealt with more loss. It didn’t know how to handle it, of course. 

It tried to save Sarah. It didn’t know how. It didn’t know how to deal with the doors… with… everything it had become. It wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough. 

It killed forty members of the cult of the lightless flame to quench its fury.

However, since it was distracted with that, it couldn’t save Emma. It showed up just in time to see her face melt away in the flames.

It was scared of Gertrude. Terrified. It thought that she might hurt it again, which she would have.

So it left Gertrude alone. Which meant that it couldn’t save Gerry.

Shelley had loved Gerry. Been in love with Gerry. But Distortion could do no more than watch from a door that Gerry ignored and Gertrude couldn’t see as the cancer pulled him into a rest deeper than anything.

It didn’t know about the book. About how Gerry was… trapped. Not until it encountered the hunters and they had the book. Then it tried to get it back. 

It would have thanked the archivist for freeing Gerry, if it hadn’t died.

Distortion grieved the people it killed at first. Then, as it embraced what it became, started to relish in their fear. 

Helen contains fragments of Distortion. I contain fragments of Distortion. Some of Shelley is lost forever, some of him is me.

Everything ends, I suppose.

I’m especially curious to see how this ends.

The ceaseless watcher feeds on our fear. I wonder if it is afraid.

Statement ends.

(Click)


	2. Chapter two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Statement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Uploading another chapter of a work that was supposed to be a one-off? It's more likely than you think!
> 
> I am procrastinating on my school essays for this. 
> 
> Cw for talk of death

(Click)

(It sounds like two people are speaking)

It wishes for me… to speak of myself.

I do not want to. I suppose that is the point. However, I cannot… not speak of myself. That would destroy the point.

(Sigh)

Where should I start? Distortion talked about itself, and then it died. Well, it was remade. Into… Helen.

It could have not died. I know that, know. I could have not been ripped apart and remade, made to suffer eternally. 

I suppose that doesn’t matter, though. Dwelling on the past will not fix things. 

Shelley would talk about himself, occasionally. He was shy. He was used to people not listening. He liked talking to other people, learning their lives. He liked to… listen. He wanted to help people.

Distortion was the opposite. It learned people’s stories so it could twist them against them, ruining them, tearing them apart slowly. He found it fascinating how much fear you could truly pull out of a person. He ran long games before devouring people.

(Sigh)

I suppose I must talk about myself, now.

I am not a true person. I am not human, I am not an avatar. I am something different. I’m hardly real.

I am not.. whole. Too much of myself was lost when Shelley and Distortion were lost.

I grieve everything Shelley and Distortion lost. I hate it. I wish I could be unbothered.

It’s strange, you know.

I have their memories, I feel what they felt, but I am not truly them. I do not feel as if… what happened to them happened to me.

I do not understand the form I am in. I can feel things, but my form is barely understandable, barely comprehensible.

I do not think I truly existed before the world ended. I think that I was there, in a sense. But the end is a finaky thing.

Many say it is the end of all. I disagree. It did not truly claim me, and I am back. However, there are some people the end DID truly claim that returned. Such as… What was his name? Banks. Distortion thought his fear was fascinating. It wanted to claim him itself, but the end already had a grasp on Banks.

Anyway, I am getting off topic. When I wrenched myself out of the end’s grasp, or really, was pulled from it by forces that I cannot understand, I lost so much of myself. It hurts.

I’ve already said that, but it does. Nothing truly compares to the… PAIN of being unmade. And it happened to me twice. Even when I was Distortion, it was still there, an ever present ache. Trapping people in the hallways helped to soothe it, but the part of distortion that was still Shelley hurt at the loses.

The two parts of myself are constantly in turmoil. Shelley was used to feeling conflicted. This is… different. They are fighting, constantly ripping at each other, at everything I was and have become.

I know things I should not. I suppose that may come from Shelley being a part of the Eye, whether he knew it or not. I suppose a part of him always knew something was wrong and simply did not wish to pursue it.

I do not know who listens to the tapes. I do not know where they come from, why they run while I speak. 

I grieve Fiona. I wish she could be freed. I’ve heard the archivist is planning to try and restore the world. Maybe she will be freed if that happens. Maybe she will die. I suppose anything would be better than that place.

I like to believe Emma and Sarah are at rest. But the end is a more… flexible thing than people believe, and I am not sure.

I understand that none of this makes sense. It’s not supposed to.

That is my punishment. That was Shelley’s fear, that was the thing Distortion loved and hated itself for loving.

I wonder if I will finally die if the world returns to how it is. The Archivist wishes to repair things. Distortion did not hate the Archivist. Distortion hated Getrude, it did not hate Sims. It thought Sims was foolish, maybe even felt a little sympathetic. I do not feel anything towards Sims. I would be grateful if he returned the world to how it was and I finally died. I wish for the pain to end.

(Click)


End file.
